


Streets of Freeside

by CandyCanine



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Gen, the clash of philosophies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 22:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28875096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CandyCanine/pseuds/CandyCanine
Summary: The courier tries to convince Vulpes Inculta that the ways of the Legion are wrong. She doesn't succeed, of course. Or does she?
Kudos: 7





	Streets of Freeside

“So you think the only way to live is yours.”  
“I do not think it, profligate, I know it.” He is about to turn away.  
“Wait.”  
He halts his steps, but doesn’t turn around. If she wants something from him, she can well come to him. She knows it, and isn’t bothered by it because there’s more at stake here than just her pride. She walks down the steps and comes to halt beside him.  
“You think everything here is worthless.”  
“Sinners, profligates, whores.” He lifts one eyebrow in distaste.  
“You know, standing here, I could almost agree with you.” She smiles, her brown eyes sparkle for a second before dulling again. “Will you humour me for, say, half an hour?”  
He crosses his arms. “Why should I?”  
She shrugs. “You’ve only seen one side of the coin.”  
“The one that matters.”  
“How can you be so sure of that if you haven’t seen the other?”  
He narrows his eyes and tilts his head. “Half an hour”, he says.  
The courier beckons him to follow her, relief written all over her. They head for the gate to Freeside.  
“I have been here”, he says. “I have seen the way these profligates root around in the dirt like the swine they are.”  
“I am sure of that”, she replies, not looking at him. “Will you still humour me?”  
“Lead the way.”

They enter Freeside, pass the little boy that works for Mick and Ralph. His cries fade into the background as he follows the courier around a corner and down an alley, onto a small plaza between half-ruined houses. His lips curl in distaste and she can understand it. It is dirty, refuse is littering the street. The sewers have long since stopped functioning, and the smell of human waste is strong. 

A toothless old man sits on a chair, basking in the afternoon sun. His face is gaunt and crinkled like old leather, but he seems contend.   
The courier stops and points. “See that old man?”  
“A ruin, to be sure. Why would anyone want to waste away like that?”  
The courier looks at the man of the legion and smiles, a strange, knowing smile. “Wait”, she says.  
They don’t have to wait very long. A young woman rounds a corner, a gaggle of children trailing behind, from a boy of about ten years down to a toddler walking at the hands of his bigger sisters. A baby sits in a sling on her hip. The old man sees them and his face lights up into a brilliant, happy smile.

“Granddad!” The children shriek in delight and flock around the old man, patting his knees, and the toddler climbs into his lap. The young woman laughs and tells the children to give their gran space to breathe. She offers the old man a bowl of food and he eats it while she sits down on the ground beside his chair and nurses her baby, both their faces content. The toddler occasionally asks for a spoonful, gladly given to him by the old man.

“You think living to a ripe old age is wasteful and degrading.”  
He does not reply.

They leave the old man and his grandchildren, walk down the street. She bids him to follow her as she enters the old Mormon fort. He hesitates, but he gave her half an hour. So he follows, and the heavy oaken doors close behind them.

She speaks to a female doctor with a spiky hairstyle utterly unbefitting for a woman. Smiling, she comes back to him and leads him to a tent, where she bids him wait. There they stand, and listen to a woman scream and howl in pain. A young man is pacing back and forth in front of the tent, his face pale.   
The woman howls again and there is silence. A tall, blonde man sticks his head out shortly afterwards, looking tired but smiling, incredibly pleased with himself. He opens the flap.  
“Congratulations”, he says to the young man. “It’s a boy.”

The young man all but yelps in delight and storms into the tent. Stepping a little closer, the courier and the man of the Legion can peek inside. A woman is resting on one of the beds, her face pale and sweaty, but with a proud, beaming smile on her face.   
“We have a son, Michael”, she says, her voice hoarse and yet shining with happiness. “We have a son.”  
He kneels down beside her bed, tears staining his face. “Well hello junior”, he says, his voice hoarse. “Welcome to the world my son.”  
Then the two look at each other, he kisses her tenderly and her attention shifts to the bundle in her arms again. With a smile as tender as milk she runs a finger down the baby’s tiny cheek while the man runs a hand through her hair. “Mary I’m so proud of you”, he says softly. “Thank you. I love you, you know.”  
She smiles without taking the eyes off the baby. “Shall we give him your father’s name?”  
He kisses her temple. “You make me the happiest man on earth, Mary.”  
She smiles at him this time, and they kiss again. 

The courier steps back, and the man of the Legion follows her. They leave the fort, and as they head for the gate out of Freeside, a cluster of boys pass them by. They are kicking a ball made of rags, and their happy shouts and laughter echo between the houses.   
At the gate, she faces him again.

“Will any slave woman of the Legion look that way at her son when he is laid into her arms after she bore him under terrible pain?”  
He does not reply.  
“Will any boy born by a slave woman ever play with a ball? Ever laugh like these boys do?”  
He still does not reply.   
She looks at him. “Not everything about these people is damnable.”  
“Your time is up”, is the only thing he replies. He turns away, and vanishes through the gate.   
The courier watches him go. 

He makes his way back to report to his master and it takes him all the way to the fort to ban the sounds of happily laughing, playing children out of his mind. 

Yet in his dreams, those sounds come back to haunt him.


End file.
